Page 5 of Lessons in Life

‘No, of course not. I wouldn’t do that to the kids when they’ve been working so hard.’ I looked pointedly at Mason’s hand where it continued to rest on my arm, and eventually he sighed, removing it. ‘The thing is, Robyn, what you and I had…’

‘What you and I had?’ I actually laughed at that. ‘Mason, we had a bit of a fling.’

‘Oh, surely it was more than a bit of a fling?’

‘A bit of a fling,’ I repeated firmly. ‘And both of us always worried that Petra and the rest of the staff would cotton on to what was going on. Does your wifeknowwhat went on?’

‘Does your barrister?’ Mason came right back at me.

‘No. Although, to be honest, it really is nothing to do with him who I was with when we weren’t together.’

‘Exactly.’ Mason nodded. ‘Nothing to do with my wife either. She and I were separated at the time.’

We stood our ground, both of us slightly embarrassed where this conversation appeared to be taking us, and it was something of a relief when Petra appeared at the door.

‘You two OK?’ Always suspicious that something was going on between the pair of us, Petra narrowed her eyes slightly. ‘Police are here, Mason. Want to talk to you about Joel.’

Joel. Goodness, in all this skirting round each other, I realised Mason and I hadn’t discussed Joel Sinclair.

‘Does your Sorrel know anything?’ Petra asked, folding her arms and leaning against the doorframe. ‘She and Joel are pretty close, aren’t they?’

I nodded. ‘He’s her best mate although, to be honest, Mum’s none too happy that they’re friends. His family has one hell of a reputation. And my dad, who deigned to call in on Boxing Day, actually tried coming the heavy father with her. Which is a bit of a laugh, seeing he was never really there for any of us when we were growing up.’

‘He’s getting quite a name for himself, your dad.’ Mason, always a fan of Jayden’s reggae-based music, waxed lyrical about the man as he always did. ‘Heard him being interviewed on Radio 4 the other morning.’

‘Let’s hope Sorrel gets the place at Susan Yates Theatre School,’ Petra said, ignoring Mason’s fanboying of my dad. ‘Get her out of Joel’s way.’

‘I like Joel.’ I frowned. ‘He’s a good kid. Bright. He just wants to dance, but he’s in too deep with his dad’s lot.’

‘I think it’s got bigger now than simply his dad’s mates,’ Mason said.

Petra shook her head. ‘Surely the Youth Justice Service and his defence team will make sure he’s afforded some protection? You know, now that he’s in hospital? Isn’t that what being on a court order means? To rehabilitate?’

‘Look, the pair of you—’ Mason turned back to us ‘—keep this to yourself. I don’t want the world and his wife knowing – these people that Joel’s got himself involved with are, apparently, highly organised. It’s not a two-bit village affair, you know. There’s a network that’s spread across Yorkshire, into Manchester and down to Birmingham and London, factions within this network fighting for their position as top dog. They have kids like Joel starting “work” in the morning after being handed a backpack of drugs, a burner phone, a bike and a knife, all of which are handed back at the end of the “shift”.’

We both stared at Mason, and Petra put a hand to her growing bump as if to protect her unborn child from what was going on in a world it would be introduced to in just a few months’ time.

‘Joel rarely opens up to me,’ Mason went on, ‘but I had a chat with him on the last day of term and he said, “Mr Donoghue, what’s the alternative? My dad’s in prison and is being coerced in there just as much as I am out here. I have to think about my dad, and my mum and my little sister.”’

‘Oh, poor Joel,’ I said. ‘And all he wants to do is sit his GCSEs and then get into dance as a career. Fat chance of that while he’s being controlled like this.’

‘My biggest concern,’ Mason went on, ‘is that it’s actually easier for kids like Joel to ultimately accept their lot rather than get themselves out of it. To become hardened to it all and end up simply working their way up the career-criminal ladder. Joel’s very bright; it could easily become his profession. And, if it does, he’ll probably end up very rich: the bosses of these types of criminal gangs are millionaires,’ he added.

‘Or very dead,’ I said bleakly. ‘I need to get Sorrel away from him, don’t I?’

* * *

‘How was your first day back?’ Jess, head in a recipe book, didn’t look up as I walked into her kitchen. She was back from a shift at Hudson House and, as per usual, up to her ears creating fabulous food.

‘A bit disconcerting, to be honest.’

‘Oh?’ Jess was obviously too intent on scanning the page in front of her to take in what I was saying.

When she didn’t respond further, I said, ‘Didn’t think you needed cookery books?’

‘I don’t really. Just checking whether Delia adds vinegar to her meringues. Never convinced it’s the best thing to do.’

‘Where’s Lola?’

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